by J. P. Bowie
Chapter One
Los Angeles: Present Day
Micah
Saturday night and I was home alone again. With a heavy sigh, I tossed the book I’d been reading to one side and rolled off the couch I’d been lying on for the past three hours. I gave a mighty stretch then headed for the kitchen. Pulling a beer from the refrigerator, I popped the cap and chugged about half the bottle’s contents in one go, before exhaling a long breath of satisfaction.
“Damn good,” I muttered then gulped back the rest of the beer. After tossing the bottle into the trash can, I ambled back into the living room and threw myself back down on the couch.
I was bored and pissed that another lonely evening loomed ahead of me, one of the many I’d endured since my ex, Robert, had left. I wasn’t going to give in to wondering what had gone wrong—again. I’d turned that particular subject over and over in my mind countless times, until even I was tired of it. And every time, I came up with the same answer—I had most probably just bored Robert to death.
It had all seemed so great at the start. We both had so much in common. We liked the same kind of music, enjoyed Italian food, hiking, tennis, movies—and the sex had been so damned great…for me, anyway. In my mind’s eye, I could see Robert’s sleek, smooth body, lightly tanned, firmly muscled. He wasn’t exactly a gym bunny, but he exercised there enough to keep that delectable physique tight and taut. He’d felt so good in my hands…so warm and sensual. Now someone else was caressing that body, kissing those plump lips—
Jesus Christ! I was doing it again.
“Let it go!” I yelled, jumping to my feet, tears of frustration springing to my eyes. “Let him go. He’s not coming back.”
“I’m not coming back.” Those were the last words Robert had said, just before stalking to the door of this very room and slamming it behind him. I could still hear the resounding DUET IN BLOOD
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crash of finality as the door had been banged into its frame with such force, the walls had shuddered, and I’d heard the angry voices of the neighbours yelling, “Cut it out!”
I’d stood in the centre of this room, stunned into disbelief that he had really left me. Left me for someone he’d met at the gym, someone who shared his interests. Someone who wasn’t content just to stay home every night, but who knew how to enjoy life. Someone like me, before I met you, Robert, I’d thought.
Funny thing was that I had known it was going to happen. I don’t know how or why, but I’ve always had this innate knowledge of when something life-changing was going to happen to me. Several times throughout my life, I’ve had premonitions of events that have later taken place. Like when my father died so suddenly…
“Shit,” I muttered, wiping my eyes. “I’ve got to get outta here.”
Maybe Rhonda who lived in the apartment above me would like to take in a movie.
Rhonda had been so terrific to me when Robert left, spending hours just talking to me, telling me Robert was the loser, and it wouldn’t be long before I’d realise that and start dating again.
Even though I hadn’t believed a word of it, I valued the encouragement and the friendship.
But who was I kidding? It was Saturday night, and Rhonda would be out painting the town all shades of red.
Walking quickly into the bathroom, I turned on the hot shower spray. Maybe if I
spruced up a little and went out for a drink, I might run into a friendly face—maybe even someone I knew. There had to be one or two friends left somewhere. That’s the trouble with committed relationships, people you used to hang with suddenly disappeared—especially the single ones.
What happened to Ron? I wondered. We used to spend so much time together…good times, too. I wondered if he still managed that Italian restaurant—I must have his number somewhere.
Drying myself, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I’d be twenty-five in three weeks and apart from the ‘melancholy baby’ aura, I guess I still looked okay. I’m just a little less than six feet. My hair is reddish blond, thick and wavy. My eyes, when they’re not bloodshot from crying, are a clear, light blue, and my mouth is full and wide.
Robert used to call it truly kissable.
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Pushing that thought from my mind, I tried smiling. It looked more like a grimace.
Gotta perk up if you want someone to pass the time of day, or night, with you, I told my reflection.
After applying a spicy deodorant and a splash of cologne, I pulled on a pair of my favourite blue jeans and a black cotton tee. Shoes or boots? Sneakers, I decided.
I spiked up my hair up a bit, picked up my keys and billfold then headed for the door, wishing I felt more into this than I really was.
The Blue Moon was fairly crowded when I sauntered in, trying to look cool and
unattainable.
“What’ll it be?” The bartender gave me an appraising look. He was cute.
“Michelob light.”
“Comin’ up.” He smiled as he passed the bottle across the bar. He let his fingers linger on mine for just a second as he took the five I proffered, and I grew warm. I smiled back at him, before moving away into the crowd, my eyes scanning the people around me while I looked for a familiar face. A strange sensation stole over me, and my senses came to full alert.
Someone, somewhere near, was waiting for me.
I shivered slightly as I looked around, and that’s when I saw him, standing in a far corner. Tall, built, wide shoulders, dark, almost black hair cut short, military style. He wore a white tee that showed his honed physique to great effect, and even from where I was standing, I could see he had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen on any man. They were startlingly clear grey eyes, and when they met mine across the crowded room, I felt myself go slack-jawed with awe. He didn’t look like he should be standing alone in a gay bar—he was way too good looking to be on his own. I hung back, expecting some other dreamboat to come out of the men’s room at any moment and make a beeline for him. Amazingly, that didn’t happen. Even more amazingly, he smiled—at me.
I thought I heard a voice whisper in my mind, “Come to me.”
That might have been my imagination, but I wasn’t about to wait for a second
invitation. As if in a trance, I made my way to where he stood waiting, that same smile lifting DUET IN BLOOD
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the corners of his mouth—a mouth I wanted to plant one on before I even got halfway across the barroom floor.
“Hello.” His voice was low, husky and slightly accented. “My name is Joseph.”
“Hi, I’m Micah.”
He held out his hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Micah.”
I took his hand and held it, liking the feel of his cool fingers. “Likewise,” I murmured, feeling slightly entranced by his steady gaze. Was it my imagination or had there been a slight pulse of energy flowing between us as we clasped hands? With some reluctance, I released him from my grip.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said.
“I…I’ve been out of circulation for some time.”
“Ah…” He gave me a knowing look. “A painful parting?”
“You could say that.” I liked the compassion in his beautiful eyes—eyes that were not just grey but more a kind of silver. “Can I get you a drink?” I asked. “Your glass is empty.”
“Thank you.”
We walked to the bar. The bartender, seeing us standing side-by-side, practically fell over his own feet as he rushed over. He beamed at us. “Same again, guys?”
“Please,” Joseph said, smiling at me.
“Red wine…and a Michelob for you, right?”
“Right.” I glanced at Joseph. “I think you’ve made a big impression on our friendly bartender.”
“Really? I thought it was you he’s in a sweat over.”
“In a sweat? No, it’s defi
nitely you he’s hot for.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have I made an impression, big or small, on you, Micah?”
“Yes,” I found myself saying. “Yes, you have.”
“Good.” Joseph smiled at the bartender who delivered our drinks. “Thank you, Bob.”
Bob grinned up at him. “Cheers, guys. These are on the house.”
“So, you know him,” I remarked after we’d thanked Bob, and he’d turned away to
serve another customer.
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“Only from my being here. He’s a friendly soul. He makes me feel welcome, and
sometimes, when the bar is quiet, we have lively debates.”
Lively debates. I had a feeling Bob the bartender would have preferred something else lively. “You come here often, then?” I asked.
“Fairly often. When I’m visiting Los Angeles…”
“Oh, you don’t live in LA?” I felt a sudden twinge of disappointment.
“No…but I have business here, at times.”
“So, where do you call home?”
Instead of replying, Joseph leaned closer. “You have some foam on your lip.”
Before I could get my tongue to it, he ran a feather-light touch over my top lip, tracing the outline with his forefinger. The sensation was like an electric tingle. His eyes locked on mine, he inserted his finger into his mouth and slowly, sensually, licked the foam from his finger. I felt myself getting hard.
“Paris,” Joseph said.
“Huh?” I stared at him.
“That’s where I call home. Paris.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” I stared at him as if mesmerised. “So you’re French.”
“German, actually, but I have lived in Paris for some years now.”
“Paris… I’ve never been there.”
“It’s beautiful,” Joseph murmured, his eyes still locked on mine. “Would you like to come home with me?”
“To Paris?” I croaked.
He chuckled. “No. At least, not tonight. I have a suite at the Plaza.”
“Oh…” Dummy. “I…I knew that,” I stuttered. “I mean, not the suite at the Plaza…but…uh, that you didn’t mean Paris…uh, tonight…oh, crap.”
Joseph laughed lightly. “You look most becoming when you blush, Micah.”
I bet. Becoming? Who uses words like that anymore?
“You don’t believe me.” He touched my hand. “More than just becoming—adorable.”
His touch became a firm grip. “So, would you come home with me tonight?”
“Yeah.” I squeezed his hand. “I’d like that…very much.”
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I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought as I sat by Joseph’s side in the cab. I had never done this, at least, not after only a half hour’s conversation. But, there was something so alluring about this guy. He was different from the usual barflies I remembered from when I was a frequent customer at the Blue Moon in the days before Robert. But I’d met Robert there too, and as attracted to him as I’d been the first time I’d seen him, he still had not affected me quite like this. That had come later.
A sense of urgency coursed through me as the brightly lit entrance to the hotel loomed before us. Somewhere in there, Joseph had a suite, with a big bed, and I couldn’t wait to get him into it—couldn’t wait until I slipped my hands under his shirt and felt the warmth and smoothness of his skin. My face grew hot again as the hardness of my erection pressed against the denim of my jeans. Jeez, cut that out, I told it. I have to stand up in a minute.
The suite Joseph ushered me into was big and lavishly furnished, and through the door to the bedroom, I saw a big bed—a very big bed.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Joseph asked, gesturing to a well-stocked bar.
“Just a beer, if you have it.”
“Of course.”
I looked around while Joseph opened the fridge and popped a bottle. From the large windows, there was magnificent view of Los Angeles, the lights of the city shimmering in the night haze.
“Here you are.” He smiled as he handed me a glass filled to the brim. “Salud,” he said softly, clinking his glass of red wine against my beer glass. “A votre santé.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means ‘to your health’.”
“A votre santé,” I repeated, lifting my glass again to his.
He moved closer and brushed my lips with his, giving me that little electric tingle again. “Thank you,” he murmured.
I closed my eyes, waiting for another kiss, but he had stepped back.
“So…” I cleared my throat. It felt strangely constricted from the disappointment that welled inside me. “What is it you do when you’re here in LA?”
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“I have some financial business to attend to for clients who live here.”
“They must be very wealthy clients, if you come all the way from Paris for them.”
“They are.” Joseph regarded me with amusement in his eyes. “Very wealthy. You seem troubled, Micah.”
“I feel a little out of my depth to be honest. I guess I’m not used to this kind of opulence. I…I live on a pretty modest budget. You obviously move in circles I know nothing about.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, I just have to look around. And now we’re in better lighting, I can tell those jeans you’re wearing didn’t come from Mervyns.”
Joseph chuckled. “Then I shall lower the lights.”
I sighed. “You’re very nice, but I think I should go.”
“But why?”
“Because, when I saw you tonight, I was kinda hoping you’d be the one to snap me out of this gloom and doom mood I’ve been in for months now…” I stopped, clearing my throat again. What the hell was I doing, blabbing about stuff this guy didn’t want to hear? He was lookin’ to get laid, for Pete’s sake.
Joseph’s smile did not falter. “Go on,” he said.
“It’s just that you’re out of my league. I manage a bookstore, and you—I mean, what are you? Still in your twenties and you’re a high-flying financier? You live in Paris. I live in West Hollywood. You stay in fancy hotels. I barely manage to pay the rent on a one-bedroom apartment. I look at you, and I see someone I would love to know better—someone I could respect and admire—”
“As do I,” Joseph said. Putting down his wineglass on a nearby table, he walked
towards me. “I look at you, and I see a young man, an extremely handsome man, I may add, who has been made sad by events of the past. You’re feeling a tad sorry for yourself. You feel betrayed, maligned…” As he spoke, he stroked my face with gentle fingers. “Look at me, Micah. In my eyes, you will see your pain mingled with mine. We are all wounded in one manner or another. Believe me, wealth does not always take away the pain. Sometimes, it can be even more of a burden. I don’t want you to leave, Micah.” He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me gently. “Stay with me, please.”
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I hesitated. My earlier objections suddenly seemed to have no meaning under the
weight of his eloquence. I put down my glass and wrapped my arms around his hard body.
“Sorry, I’m being such a sad sack.”
Joseph’s lips fluttered over the skin on my throat, and I shuddered with desire and longing. What a jerk I am, I thought, laying all that angst on a guy I met just an hour ago. And he still wants me to stay?
“Yes, I want you to stay,” Joseph murmured close to my ear.
I tilted my head back and looked at him with surprise. “You’re a mind reader?”
He smiled. “I could feel you doubting my sincerity.”
“No, no… I was just thinking you must b
e one helluva guy to still want me to stay after listening to all that self-pity I just laid on you.”
His arms tightened about me. “When you get to know me better,” he said, with a wry smile, “I might regale you with some of my tales of woe.”
When you get to know me better, I repeated to myself. Those words made me feel good, and I did what I had wanted to do while sitting in the cab with him. I tugged at his tee, pulling it loose from his khaki jeans and bunching it up to expose his chest, then I lowered my head to kiss the cool, fragrant skin. I inhaled his scent, loving the spicy blend. My lips found his left nipple, my tongue flicking at it, tentatively at first, then seriously licking, my mouth engulfing the stiffening point. Joseph groaned, holding my head lightly pressed to his chest as I sucked. His hands strayed to the hem of my tee, lifting it, slipping it over my head, caressing my torso, finding his way inside my jeans, his fingers straying into the cleft between my butt cheeks.
He undid the top button of my jeans, tugging them down around my hips to give him greater access to my butt. I had gone commando, just for the hell of it, and the feel of his big hands caressing my bare bottom made me shudder with pure pleasure. He lifted me into his arms, and I wound my legs around his hips, my arms around his neck, while he kissed my throat, scraping his teeth lightly over my fevered skin.
God, but that sensation made me almost come all over him. “Wow,” I breathed into his ear. “That feels so good.”
He carried me into the bedroom and lowered me onto the bed. He leaned over me, his lips brushing my face, my throat, my chest. I squirmed with pleasure beneath him, my DUET IN BLOOD
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fingers working at his zipper, eager to release the hardness pressing against my own erection. I grasped the hard flesh, palming it gently, squeezing the pre-cum from the tip and licking at it.
“Mmm…” I couldn’t resist voicing my appreciation of the salty, pungent taste before taking all of him into my mouth. Joseph groaned again as he ground his hips against the pull of my lips. I yanked his jeans down and stroked the silky skin that covered his muscular butt.